Auctoritas
by RedHerring86
Summary: Dean is a leader of a Rebel Group working against the Garrison, an oppressive government. When he captures Castiel, a soldier of the Garrison, both Angel and Rebel learn things are not always as they seem. AU, No Slash
1. Chapter 1

"Wait."

Dean looked down upon the surrounded Garrison member. Three of his fallen comrades lay around him. This man was the last man fighting, and Dean had to admit he put up a good fight. He admired the Garrison member for that. But only for that.

Dean slid off the side of his jet-black horse and casually walked over to the man forced to his knees, held at gunpoint by seven of his own group members. Dean looked down upon the man from the Garrison, studying him. He had black hair and fierce blue eyes. He couldn't help but notice the latter, for the blue eyes glared back at him defiantly.

"What's your name?"

The man only continued to glare at Dean.

"Alright, well then do you mind telling me what such a small group of Garrison members are doing so far outside the city walls?"

Again, nothing but a rebellious stare. Seeing that he would get nothing out of the Garrison member now, Dean sighed and returned to his horse.

"Bind his wrists and trail him behind your horse back to camp. Someone trail behind him and make sure he doesn't try anything." Dean looked to the man "Try anything, and my men will but a bullet to your brain."

"Dean, are you sure that's a good idea, bringing him back to camp?" his brother said in a low tone next to him while the men bound the prisoner.

"What am I supposed to do Sammy? We need answers. The Garrison never travels this far outside the city walls in such a small group. Something ain't right."

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><p>For as long as anyone could remember, the land was ruled by a single government: The Garrison. The government consists of three chairs. The first of which is the Prophets. The Prophets are the scholars; they create laws and manage taxes. The second chair is the Angels; they are the military, the soldiers that protect the land and enforce laws placed by the Prophets. The final chair consists of one person, the King. The King is, by all means, the most powerful person in the land. He commands both Prophets and Angels, along with all the citizens.<p>

For a time, there was peace. However, it was not meant to last. Three hundred years ago, God ruled as King. He was fair, wise, and just; because of this the land prospered. One cruel night, God was murdered by an Archangel by the name of Michael. Michael took the throne by force, beginning a new era of chaos and corruption. He did not care for the people, as God had, but instead was consumed by greed and power. His descendants have held the throne since, each as cruel as the last.

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><p>AUCTORITAS<p>

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><p>The trip back to their camp wasn't a long one. His men seemed to keep themselves occupied by suddenly pulling on the prisoner's rope, making him stumble and occasionally fall. Those instances would earn a laugh from the group as the man struggled to regain his footing.<p>

Dean looked back from the front of the line at his men taunting the Garrison man. He frowned a little, but shrugged it off and turned to Sam, who was closely flanking his right side.

"So what do you think they were doing out here?"

Sam thought for a second. "I don't know. Do you think they're looking for Rebel groups like ours?"

"No I don't think so. They wouldn't send out a group of four for that. Some Rebel groups reach sizes of fifteen to twenty, they'd be way too outnumbered."

"Maybe they're runaways?"

Dean gave his brother a disbelieving glare. "C'mon Sammy get real, a runaway? That's happened, what, once in Garrison history. And the guy who did it was crazy. _And_ he was killed before getting 5 miles out of the city."

"Alright Dean I get your point, I'm just trying to think of reasons here."

"Yeah well, think of better ones."

That earned him a glare of his own. Dean caught site of their camp. It was nothing big, as they had to carry all of their supplies. Several sleeping-bags surrounded a fire pit, along with thick wood posts each man pounded into the ground outside their ring of sleeping-bags to tie their horses to. They carried the posts for situations in which there weren't enough trees to tie their horses to.

Turning back toward his men (who were still being amused by making the Garrison man fall and drag behind the horse), Dean instructed them to tie him to his horse's post; his horse would just have to share with Sam's tonight.

His men dragged him over to the post, first binding his wrists behind the post, then wrapping the rope around his upper body. One of the men gave him a punch to the face, just for good measure. Seeing the hungry look from the rest of his men who obviously held great animosity for the Garrison member too, Dean began barking out orders.

"Burns, Johnson, I want the fire going in half an hour. Fulton and McFee, go take care of the horses. Everyone else cleans weapons." His men looked at him disappointed, but as soon as Dean gave them a hard "Now!" they all scrambled to their work.

He and Sam looked over a map while the other men worked, discussing what might have interested the Garrison.

Later that night, Dean walked over to the post the Garrison man was secured to. It was far enough away from the fire to be cold. Dean again looked down to study the man, while the man again glared up at him.

"What's your name?"

Nothing.

"Look man, I don't get anything from learning your name. Unless you prefer being called 'prisoner."

At that the man looked up at him with his piercing blue eyes. This time was different though. Instead of a defiant hate, the eyes looked upon him with curiosity, studying him. Dean felt a little uncomfortable being studied, but he hid all signs of weakness.

"Castiel."

Well there's a start. "Well, Castiel, do you mind telling me what the Garrison is doing this far off the reservation?"

"I have no intentions of telling you anything."

Dean surveyed him again before adding "Well I could turn you over to my boys, but I think they'd be more interested in using you for target practice than getting information from you. Right now the only reason you're not dead is because of my orders. So tell you what, if you tell me what I need to know, I won't let my men kill you."

Silence. "So I was digging through all of your belongings" he continued, trying to get a bit of a rise out of Castiel, "and I found out that you're an Angel. Soldier to the King. What mission did the Garrison send you on?"

"Since you know I am an Angel, you know I have sworn obedience. The punishment for disobedience is death. I will not betray the Garrison for a group of Rebel scum." He spat the word Rebel like it was a swear word.

Dean raised his eyebrows at the insult. He couldn't help but like Castiel. Yeah, he was a dick Angel. But he had to give him credit for insulting the leader of an angry Rebel group, when he was bound helpless to a post. He was either stupid or had guts; and Dean was willing to bet on the latter.

"Well I was going to give you dinner but I think that little remark has changed my mind." he smirked at the Angel.

Leaving him, Dean returned to center camp. "Hey Sammy"

"Yeah?"

"I got a name. Castiel." He gave his brother a huge smile, proud of his accomplishment.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Great Dean, don't pull a muscle giving yourself a pat on the back."

His smile turned into a scowl. Sam just smirked, knowing that if anyone else talked to Dean like that they would be waking up on the ground with a black eye.

"Anyways, I need you to watch the prisoner tonight"

"What? Dean c'mon why do I have to watch him?"

"Because I'm in charge and I say so." When that earned him a stubborn look from Sam, his smile slid and he whispered back "Because I don't trust anyone else to do it. You saw the way they were looking at him earlier, they'll kill him. Now I'm all for it, but first we need some answers. Can I trust you to do it?"

"Man, why can't you? He's your prisoner."

"Thus I reiterate. Because I'm in charge and I say so." A cocky smile crept on his face.

"I was up all last night figuring out a way around the rockslide we ran into" Sam protested.

Crap. He forgot about that. "Fine Sammy, I'll take watch tonight. But you owe me one." A smile danced across his lips as Sam threw him a disbelieving look.

"Whatever, jerk."

"Bitch."

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><p><strong>As some of you may have noticed, this isn't the first time this story has been on fanfiction. I, due to unfortunate circumstances, had to delete my old account. So if you've followed it before: welcome back! I have made some adjustments to it so keep your eyes peeled, its not the exact same story from last time<strong>.** If it's new to you then welcome aboard =] I'm sorry for the confusion this may have caused. I'm also really sorry to the people who have followed the story before, for just up and leaving without saying anything, and for not being on for a while. I will be posting frequently, at least until I've reached the point I did on my last account. Then updates will probably a bit more spaced out. But don't worry - I am very determined to finish this story. So if you like long chapter fics, stick around. **

**So thanks for reading, and, as always, reviews are most welcome =]**


	2. Chapter 2

Dean sighed and looked over to the Angel. Grabbing the maps, his gun, and a lantern, he moved the log originally next to the campfire for sitting on, to a spot nearby Castiel. Castiel gave him a wary look at first, but it then molded into one of curiosity when Dean just sat there, leaning up against the log, scanning the maps. Dean shifted uncomfortably when he noticed the Angel staring at him. He lifted the maps to block his face away from him, but lowered it after a minute or two realizing that it was slightly childish to do so. Neither spoke to the other all night. Dean was relieved when he saw Sam stirring awake early next morning. Besides Dean, Sam was always first to wake in the group. Dean got up and walked over to his brother, who had begun making breakfast.

"So how did it go last night?" Sam asked quietly, mostly as to not wake the other men, but partially to ensure the Angel did not eavesdrop.

Dean threw a glance back over to Castiel. "It was a little weird actually; he just stared at me all night. I felt like he was analyzing my every move. So I figured today we should head back to base, see what Bobby thinks we should do about our little Angel friend."

"Yeah I guess we should. Though the men won't be too happy that we're cutting the crusade short."

"I thought about that. I'm going to leave Burns in charge, and then we're going to split off from the rest of the group. Once we reach Bobby's he can tell us where we should bring the Angel. We'll stop at the next town to give them supplies but then it's a straight shot to base."

They packed up their campsite, each man loading his own possessions onto his own horse. Castiel was cut from the post and his wrists were again bound as he had to walk behind another man's horse. They made their way toward the next town, the other Rebels once again having fun taunting the Angel.

Hours later, Dean slowed his group to a halt.

"Alright, we'll break for lunch here. Half hour, then we'll head out."

Dean slid off his horse and glanced at his prisoner. He looked exhausted. He couldn't blame him though. His men had been pulling at the rope again, pushing him, doing anything to make him fall over. They seemed to find it very amusing to watch Castiel being dragged by the horse, then struggle to regain his footing, just to have them do it again ten minutes later. Dean had done nothing to stop his men (he was a member of the Garrison after all, damn bastards), but continued to talk to Sam. Dean walked over and grabbed the other end of the rope from the saddle of Johnson's horse.

"C'mon." He led Castiel over to a tree to which he tied the loose end of the rope. The Angel slumped against the tree and slid down it until he was sitting on the ground. Dean watched him for a minute.

"You look like shit." And he did. On top of being exhausted, he had scrapes on his arms, legs, and a couple smaller ones on his face from being dragged. Castiel only gave him a weary death glare then looked back to the ground. Dean smirked but grabbed the flask at his side holding water. "Here"

Castiel looked up and eyed the flask suspiciously. Sighing, Dean took a swig to prove there was nothing wrong with it, and then held it out again for Castiel to drink from. He reached his bound hands up to take it and drank from it profusely.

"Tell me what the Garrison is up to and I'll get you some lunch" Dean didn't really expect to get anything from the angel now. As it turned out, he was right. But hey, it was worth a shot. Half hour later, the men packed up the little supplies they had taken out for lunch. Johnson walked over and untied Castiel from the tree. He began walking toward his horse when Dean stopped him.

"I'll take him from here." He held out his hand for the end of the rope, which his man gave over with reluctance in his eyes, as if Dean had asked for the last of his dessert. Dean took it and tied the rope to his saddle, making it so that Castiel was close enough to where his men could no longer harass him. He glanced at the Garrison man. Castiel was giving him a curious look, and the hairs on Dean's neck stood up as he realized he was being analyzed again. He turned to get on his horse, and gently kicked its sides to get it to start walking.

"Hey Sammy"

Sam quickened the pace a bit of his dark brown horse so he was only just slightly behind Dean. "Whats up?"

"Do we need any supplies while we're stopping in Carlin?"

"We might need more ammo, but we're fine on everything else. This trip was supposed to last another week at least."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "How do you think Dad'll react to us skipping two towns in the rounds?" he asked in a light tone, but there was a touch of seriousness to what he said.

"Dean come on, you know dad. If we didn't bring in the Angel right away he'd be pissed. Then again, since we skipped two towns, he'll still be pissed." Dean cracked a smile and they both laughed. "Besides, Burns will get the job done right."

"Fair enough." A moment later, Dean spoke up again. "Betcha ten silver pieces Bobby calls us idjits."

Sam laughed again. "Yeah, no way I'm taking that."

They continued to talk until it was dark out. They stopped and set up camp, Dean once again asking the Angel what the Garrison was up to. Being denied again, Dean left him to Sam, who was taking his turn to watch Castiel.

Sam leaned up against the log, reading his book. He glanced up from what he was reading to find Castiel staring at him. He buried himself in his book again, raising the cover to hide his face. He quickly realized that it was irrational of him (not to mention childish), and lowered it. The Angel now wore an amused expression on his face.

"What's so funny?" Sam demanded, still a little defensive and ashamed of his brief childishness.

"Your leader did the same thing last night."

"Oh." Sam had to grin. It was a little funny. He returned to his book, taking out some beef jerky while he read. Minutes later he looked up to see Castiel staring intently on his food. Then it hit Sam.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Castiel gave Sam a confused look. "About two days ago."

"Figures" Sam mumbled as he got up to retrieve some leftover food from dinner. Castiel stared at it longingly.

Sam hesitated. This could go badly. "Alright, I'm going to tie your legs then cut the rope around your arms. I'm going to leave your wrists tied though." He pulled out his gun from the holster around his waist. "And don't try anything either."

Sam did as he said he would, and was relieved when his plan went off without a hitch. He handed Castiel the plate with food on it, which the man scarfed down immediately. After the plate was clean, Castiel handed it back to Sam with another confused look.

"I don't understand." He questioned.

Sam tilted his head in his own confusion."Don't understand what?"

"Why… Wont your leader be upset that you gave me food?" Sam gave an appraising look toward Castiel. He seemed genuinely puzzled.

Sam scoffed. "Dean doesn't always think straight. He's trying to get you to talk to him, but he forgets that you walked the entire day. If you don't get food you'll drop dead on your own accord, and he doesn't want that either."

They sat in silence for a moment. "It's Sammy, right?"

Sam bristled at being called by his nickname. "I was wondering if you could hear our conversation today." The Angel made no response, so he continued. "It's just Sam actually. Dean is the only one who calls me Sammy."

"And you two are… Brothers?"

Sam nodded, wondering what else he may have clued in on. But Castiel said nothing else, apparently done talking for the night (which was just fine for Sam). He returned to his book. About fifteen minutes later, he looked up to find the Angel sleeping. He must have been exhausted from the day, but Sam found it weird to see him sleeping. This Angel seemed different from the rest of the Garrison. He didn't seem so prone to violence and ruthlessness as the others did. Sam shook the thought from his head. He was probably being manipulated. All the Garrison members are the same: cold bastards. Sam analyzed the Angel, trying to fit him into the 'cold bastard' category. For some reason he couldn't. Damn, he needed sleep.

Damn, he fell asleep. Castiel jumped awake, cursing that he fell asleep captive in a foreign campsite. He meant to only close his eyes and enter a light sleep, wanting to be alert the minute something was happening. Looking around, Castiel spotted Sam and Dean sitting by the fire. No one else in the camp was awake yet. He preferred it this way, as the rest of the Rebel scum looked ready to murder him any second. He was a little confused why the leader of this Rebel group didn't look at him the same way. It didn't matter though; he was only information to the Rebel leader, or 'Dean 'as he had learned his name was. He lacked the cruelty that the rest of the members possessed, save for his brother, but that did not mean he was different from the rest of the people he associated with.

His thoughts were broken by a laugh from Dean. With a sigh he directed his attention to the ropes binding his wrists. He had to give it to the Rebel leader; he knew what he was doing when he tied him to this damn post. He worked at the ropes while the men slowly woke up, glaring at him one by one.


	3. Chapter 3

After the Rebel group ate their breakfast and packed up the camp, Dean walked over to the post and took out his knife.

"Alright Angel boy, come on" he cut through the ropes that bound his torso to the post and rested a hand upon his shotgun in the holster on his hip as Castiel got up. He threw a small satchel at the Angel, who opened it and looked at him with what seemed to be surprise and suspicion. There was a portion of food in the bag.

Dean cleared his throat. "Sam, uh, told me about what you guys talked about last night…So…" he cleared his throat again "Eat up quick because you'll be walking in ten."

And with that he turned back to the camp site. With a nod of his head he grunted "watch him" to one of the other Rebels.

He was once again tied by the wrists and dragged behind a horse. Unfortunately, Dean didn't take the rope again, so he was subjected to another round of scrapes and bruises.

They rode into the small town of Carlin. They directed their path to the center of the town and Dean slid off his horse to talk to a man that seemed to be in charge of the town. He and the other Rebels began unloading supplies from the trailer behind one of their horses.

Once they were done they moved a little farther into town and stopped at an inn.

"Alright boys, we'll stay in the town tonight, but we're leaving bright and early tomorrow morning. Got it?"

The other Rebels mumbled in agreement and broke off in different directions.

"Dean, what are we going to do with him?" Sam asked, nodding his head in Castiel's direction.

He thought for a moment before deciding "I'll take him up to our room and keep an eye on him. You can join the rest of the men at the bar."

Sam would have usually thought it extremely out of character for Dean to pass up a night at the bar with his men, and of course, the barmaids. But if you could count on Dean for anything it would be his loyalty to their father's crusade. He didn't need Dean to tell him that he would use this as an opportunity to grill the Angel for information.

Dean brought a still-bound Castiel up to their room at gunpoint. He nodded for the Angel to sit in the chair and tied him to it.

"Looks like we get the night all to ourselves, huh?"

Castiel did not respond. As usual.

"C'mon man I just gave my night to watch your sorry ass, the least you could do is talk to me."

Dean sighed as silence filled the room. He looked up in shock when Castiel finally said something to him.

"You are very young to be in charge." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Yeah, well I've been in the business for a while, so…"

"How long is a while?"

Dean debated whether or not to answer. "Since I was four, so it'd be about twenty three years."

Disbelief played across the Angels face. "That's not possible. Rebels didn't appear until ten years ago."

"Well my dad took us from the frontier twenty three years ago, and started rebelling against the Garrison. It didn't really make an impact until ten years ago when he finally got enough people to join with him."

A shocked expression overtook Castile's face. "Dean… as in Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah, why?"

"The same Dean Winchester that lead the revolt in Sunne?"

Dean smiled as the memory of victory hit him. "That was me"

"And your father is John Winchester? The leader of the Rebellion?"

"Yeah"

Castiel looked into his eyes, as if searching for any deception.

"Hey, why is it that Angels don't have last names?" He was genuinely interested. And it wasn't like this would give away any important information. Besides, he just gave him answers.

"Our only alliance is to the Garrison. To have a last name different from any of my brothers would separate us."

Dean made no facial movement but inwardly scoffed. More like to take away your identity. Angels were programmed into thinking that original thought was crime against authority. This alone made them dangerous. They did not question orders and were easily willing to die for what they thought was a 'noble cause'.

"What do you have against the Garrison? Without us everything would turn to chaos; the people need government."

Dean laughed bitterly. "Is that what you would call it? Yeah well for some reason I don't think your kind of government is workin' out so great."

"Only because people like you refuse to embrace it."

"I am not going to sit on my ass while my 'government' robs and kills innocent people."

"They are far from innocent. If the people are savage and unruly it is only just that my brothers keep them in line. Using force can sometimes be a necessity."

"Savage and unruly? I don't know what they're teaching you in Sunday school pal but I don't think that the people being killed fit the bill. And what about the Demon attacks? I thought it was the Angels job to protect cities, yet I pass by a pillaged city every week."

Castiel's voice was beginning to rise "They teach me to devote myself to my King, and about the scum who defy him. The Demon attacks are sporadic and we cannot always get to the city in time."

More like you don't bother getting to the city. "Getting a bit angry are we? I thought Angels weren't supposed to show emotion." Dean snapped back.

They glared at each other, neither breaking eye contact. Dean got up and circled the man bound to the chair.

"How old are you?" Dean questioned

He answered only with a glare.

"The silent game again, huh? Well by the looks of it, you've never actually been on a mission." When Castiel snapped his head to look at him Dean knew he was correct. "I'll take that as a yes. This was your first. You have that 'new recruit' look to you. Do you want to know what that looks like?"

Castiel shifted his eyes to the ground. "Anyone ever tell you that a man's eyes are the window to his soul?" He glanced up at Dean but then quickly looked back down.

"Yours lack the worn, tired look that everyone owns. The only thing I see in yours is eagerness and ignorance."

Dean put his hands on the arms of the chair, putting his face inches away from Castiel's. The Angel did not avoid his eyes, as a lesser man might have, but met Dean's evaluating stare.

"You're different from the others. You don't have that sadistic look of hatred. I don't think you've ever been out of Heofon."

He pulled away after his evaluation was done and went to sit on the bed. He figured Castiel wouldn't talk to him after that anyway. He picked up his gun and began cleaning it.

After what seemed like hours, he put down the maps he was looking over. Where the hell was Sam? Something wasn't right; it wasn't like Sam to be at the bar for this long.

He double checked the roped around the chair the Angel was bound to and left the room to the saloon. Walking through the swinging batwing doors of the bar, he scanned the boisterous room for his brother. Just as he suspected, Sam was there. However, there was one thing he did not suspect.

"Sam, are you drunk?"

Sam looked up lazily from his glass. "Yea. So." He slurred.

"Dude, what are you thinking, we're on a mission!"

"Dean, you don't – I – " he finished by staring off into the distance.

"Alright, c'mon. Let's go."

He grabbed Sam by the shoulders then caught him as he nearly fell to the ground. He slung Sam's arm around his shoulder and led him back to the inn with a few weak protests from Sam. When they got in the room they stumbled over to the bed.

"Dean I – I'm fine"

"No, Sammy, you're not. Now what is this about?" Dean paused after looking at his brother "Ah, no, no, no. Not this again Sam, this is about Jess isn't it?"

"I should have been looking out for her – I –"

"Don't know how many times I've got to tell you man, it wasn't your fault."

"DON'T! Dean, just don't!"

Dean sighed heavily. "Alright Sasquatch, time for bed." He pushed him down on the bed. After a brief struggle from Sam, he lay down and grabbed the pillow to sleep. Dean pulled the covers over Sam and sat down on his bed. He watched Sam, miserable in his drunken state. He hated to see his brother like this.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and put his head in his hands. It was then that a flag went off in his head and he warily turned to see Castiel watching them.

Castiel looked at the scene with curiosity. The authoritative, hard leader he saw when Dean was around his men was diminished when the man was alone with his brother. He couldn't quite figure him out. The Rebel was holding his head in his hands when he looked up at him. It was peculiar to see the expression on his face quickly masked when Winchester realized he was watching.

Winchester got up, avoiding his gaze, and returned to looking at his map. He began writing something in his journal, never looking up. Castiel allowed himself to fall asleep. He figured he would need the energy tomorrow when he would be undoubtedly walking again.

He was right. He was surprised, however, when he was tied up to Dean's horse. After last night, he didn't think that the leader would be in the mood to do him any favors. Winchester didn't ask him any more questions that morning, but acted completely normal as if he hadn't witnessed the Rebel's worry. As they walked he kept noticing how Winchester kept looking over at his brother, who kept rubbing his head and had obviously seen better days. He was taken by surprise again when the group split up; only Sam and Dean were accompanying him now. They rode the whole day, reaching the base at sunset.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean rode up to the giant wooden gate and knocked three times. A small panel slid aside to reveal a pair of eyes, which darted to each member of the group. When asked, Dean stated the password, "Fiat voluntas Dei."_ May God's will be done_.

The gates opened for them and Castiel looked into the camp with instant curiosity and a sense of doom. The only records of Rebel bases have come from 'forcefully questioned' Rebels. There have been no other records of any Rebel hideouts, which only meant that an Angel has never been brought to one (highly unlikely), or once an Angel is taken inside they are never heard from again. He jerked forward as Dean's horse had begun to walk while his attention was elsewhere. Castiel began to walk through the base. All the buildings were made from wood. It was lined with numerous cabins, all bordering what looked to be a supply shed, a hospital, a stable for the horses, and a large building that looked big enough to fit everyone in the base (no doubt a meeting hall). On some cabins, there were men cleaning their guns or sharpening their blades on their front steps. Castiel breathed a small sigh of relief. At least he wasn't brought back to the Rebel's main base; this only looked to be a support base for Rebel members.

He looked back to the leader as Dean grinned out "Bobby!" and jumped down from his black steed. They hugged briefly, and Sam quickly followed suit.

"What're you boys doin' here? Last I heard you were out on a supply run" Bobby questioned.

"Yeah, we kinda picked up something extra" said Dean, nodding his head toward the captured Angel. Bobby looked in his direction, his eyes growing wide as realization hit him. He shot a questioning look at Dean, demanding an explanation.

"He's an Angel. We captured him a couple miles outside Carlin. He was in a group of four."

Bobby's eyebrows furrowed in troubled shock. "Four? Outside of _Carlin_? And what about the other members he was with?"

"Dead"

Seeing Bobby give an approving nod, anger burned inside Castiel as he remembered his fallen comrades. As soon as the emotions were present, they were immediately forgotten. He was well trained in eliminating his unwanted emotions. Emotions could be used to an enemy's advantage, they were too easily manipulated.

"Me and Sam need to talk with you. Inside, if you don't mind."

Not needing to ask what about, Bobby grunted out a "follow me" and led them to a cabin that, Castiel assumed, was his own.

"Got any rope?" Dean asked, and Castiel's wrists were quickly bound to yet another chair. It was better than walking, he supposed.

The men left him in the room, but left the door open. Castiel watched them as they began to talk in hushed tones so that he could not hear.

"So what can I do for you boys?"

"Do you know what a small fleet of angels would be doing a couple miles outside of Carlin?" Sam asked

Bobby shook his head. "I've never heard of Angel activity this far from Heofon besides the usual tax collection. What did he have to say about it?" he asked, nodding his head in Castiel's direction.

"He's not the most cooperative guy" Dean said sheepishly

"Well did you 'force' the issue?"

"C'mon Bobby, you know I don't like to do that stuff."

"Well he sure ain't going to tell you out of the goodness of his heart, ya idjit"

Dean threw Sam an 'I told you' glance when he called him an idjit. Sam rolled his eyes and gave a responding 'duh' glance.

Moving on, Dean said, "I figured we'd take him to Dad. This whole thing is bothering me. The Garrison has never been out this far. Plus the fact that they sent such a small group means they were going for speed…" he shook his head, glancing over at Castiel to make sure he was still bound. "I just don't know. So where is my Dad?"

"Last I heard he was at Lawrence. So how many men do you need to go with you?"

Sam shook his head. "We're not bringing extra men; they would only slow us down. We do need another horse though; it's too slow if the Angel has to walk."

Bobby shifted his eyes between the two boys. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"We're going to take precautions," Dean answered. "Besides, he's a rookie. This was his first time out of Heofon."

Sam turned to him. "What? He told you that? When? And why didn't you tell me?"

The accusing tone in his voice brushed against Dean's nerves. "In so many words. And I would have told you if you weren't drunk the night I found out" he shot back.

Sam downcasted his eyes. "Right."

Dean felt a twinge of guilt, but it was inexcusable for Sam to let himself get drunk when they're on a mission. Anything could happen, and if you aren't completely prepared it doesn't end well. He looked back to Bobby. "That doesn't leave this room by the way" he commanded. He wanted Sam to learn, but Dad would be furious if he ever found out.

"I ain't touching that one with a ten-foot pole."

Dean nodded once in thanks. "We leave tomorrow morning then. Do you mind if we stay here? We could both use a goodnights sleep."

Bobby understood what Dean was asking. "Yea, I'll keep an eye on the Angel tonight. You boys get some rest."

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><p>THE NEXT MORNING<p>

"Hands" Dean ordered.

Castiel wearily lifted his hands and Dean bound them together in front of him with rope. He tied the other end of the rope to the saddle of his black horse.

"Alright Angel Boy, get on the horse."

Sam walked up and tied a loose rope around the neck of Castiel's beige horse, then tied the other end to his own saddle. After saying their goodbyes to Bobby, they set out. Dean led the way, staying three feet ahead of Castiel's left side. Sam trailed the Angel on his right, three feet behind. Both brothers made sure to stay far enough from the Garrison member so that he could not reach their guns that were sitting in their holster-belts, or any supplies from their saddles. They stopped riding at sunset and set up a fire. Dean untied Castiel from his horse, allowing him to get down before adjusting the ropes. His upper arms and wrists were bound in an instant, and Dean pushed down on his shouler, silently telling him to sit while the two brothers made camp.

Castiel decided to devote his time evaluating the two Winchesters. He needed to know if he stood a chance of escaping if it were just the two of them watching him. This would be the last and best time for it. He also knew that his captors were fully aware of the situation, and must be fairly skilled if they offered to take him with only the two of them. He had to test their trigger speed. He reached down for a rock, not bothering to be sneaky about it. He didn't even reach the rock before he heard the swoosh of a gun being drawn and the click that armed it. His head jerked up to see Dean's gun trained on him. A second later Sam's gun followed. Castiel remained passive while staring at Dean's gun, but a sense of dread came over him. He was fast.

"Whatcha' think you're doing?" Dean asked in a calm but threatening manner. Castiel said no response but leaned back away from the rock. "Sam," he ordered. Sam put is gun back in his holster and stood up. He walked over to the Angel, cautiously bending down to pick up the rock. He threw it away from their camp then scanned the area for anything else Castiel might be able to use to get away. Dean only retracted his gun once Sam sat back down beside him. His gaze spoke volumes._ Don't even think about it_.

Sam and Dean talked the rest of the night, just amiable chatting, nothing that Castiel could pull important information out of. The two brothers seemed to be very close, judging by the ease of which they spoke to each other and laughed together. Dean seemed to speak whatever was on his mind and was quick with a joke. Sam, however, seemed to think his answers through more carefully. He didn't joke half as much as Dean, but his were subtle and had a sense of intelligence behind them. They would banter back and forth, neither taking the other seriously. A curious emotion welled up inside Castiel. He couldn't ever remember feeling it before. It was jealousy. But it was not for the brothers, it was for the lifestyle they led. It was so free. The freedom to say whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Obviously both brothers had a sense of duty, but it was clearly their choice and out of their own free will that they fought against the government. Castiel quickly searched his mind for the reason he was fighting. Because that was his purpose. Because he was ordered to. He could not think of another. Frowning, he cleared the unwanted emotion from his mind immediately; he didn't like it very much.

Castiel lay down on the ground, trying to find a comfortable position while his legs and arms were tied up. When night fell, Dean tied up his legs as well; Castiel couldn't decide which was worse, this or that damned post. He fell asleep fairly quickly. He was a valuable source of information to the Rebels; he knew neither Sam nor Dean would harm him in the night. The next two days proved to be about the same as the first. They woke up early in the morning; Dean made breakfast (even for him, to Castiel's surprise). The Winchesters rolled up their sleeping bags, doused the fire, and then untied his legs so he could walk over to get on his horse. They rode all day, stopping each night at sunset.

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><p>On the fourth day, they could see the town of Áhopian. A feeling of satisfaction filled Dean; they were exactly on schedule.<p>

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><p><strong>Thank You to those that have been reviewing and adding this story to your alerts! It's great that you'd like to follow my story, but please leave a review. I would love to hear some feedback from you guys: tell me what you're liking or hating. The story can't get any better if I don't know what your reactions are. Thanks again!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews! So good to hear some feedback! This chapters a bit longer than the others, but I figured no one would complain =]  
><strong>

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><p><em>On the fourth day, they could see the town of Áhopian. A feeling of satisfaction filled Dean; they were exactly on schedule.<em>

"Dean, that's fire!"

The satisfaction he felt was immediately cut off. He gave the town another look; sure enough there was smoke rising from a building. "Ya!" he urged his horse forward, Sam immediately following suit. Castiel gripped his bound hands to the saddle horn as the pace increased, trying to keep balance. They reached the town to frantic screaming people, running wild around a burning building. A woman was screaming, yelling at the two men who were holding her back to release her.

"NO! LET ME GO! PETER! NO, THAT'S MY SON IN THERE! PETER!" She broke down and began to sob uncontrollably when the men holding her told her it was too dangerous to go in, that the building was going to collapse any moment.

Dean didn't even think about it, he was off his horse in a second and running toward the burning building. He heard Sam yell out "Dean, no!" but ignored him. As soon as he ran into the front door he put his sleeve up to his mouth and nose so he didn't have to breathe in as much smoke.

"Peter!" he yelled out, "Peter where are you?" Coughing at the smoke that entered his lungs, he had to jump to the side when a flaming beam crashed down beside him.

"I'm up here!' he heard a voice call out. Dean looked to the steps and cursed. They looked like they were about to fall over. Hoping he wouldn't regret it, he bounded up the stairs and followed a string of cries for help to a room and kicked open the door. A young boy sat crying in the corner, cradling himself as hot flames enveloped the room.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, it's going to be all right!"

The boy made no response but continued to cry. Seeing a small break in the flames, Dean sprinted to it and raced to Peter. He reached him just as another beam came crashing down. Dean crouched in front of the boy and put his arms around him to shield him from the flying debris.

"C'mon, we need to get out of here!" He made a motion to pick the kid up, but Peter responded with a panicked and scared "No!"

"You're going to have to trust me! Now take my hand!"

The kid stared at his hand with a horrified expression for a second, but then lifted a shaking hand to meet Dean's. Dean then picked him up and held him to his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around his neck, and Dean scanned the room for his best exit. The black smoke aggravated his lungs as another vicious cough escaped him. An inkling of dread leaked through him as the opening he came from filled with the malicious flames. The kid tightened his arms around his neck, and a renewed determination coursed through him.

"It's going to get really hot in a second but I need you to keep holding onto me and don't let go. You understand?"

Peter quickly nodded three times and buried his head in Dean's shoulder. Dean braced himself for what he knew was coming and charged toward the flames. He leaped into the fiery wall, feeling the extreme heat for a second before they were on the other side. A floorboard gave out under his foot as he landed, almost making him fall. He stumbled forward but regained his balance quickly. The staircase was in worse shape than when he came up, but he didn't have time to look for another exit. The building was coming down and it was coming down fast. Quickly assessing the steps he chose a path that looked to be his best bet. Fleeting down the stairs as carefully as he could, he thought he was home-free until a beam and part of the second floor crashed down right in front of the door.

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><p>"NOOOOO!"<p>

The hairs on the back of Castiel's neck stood on end as he heard the terrible cry from the woman who was fighting to get into the building. Rubble had just crashed down, blocking the front door and sealing the building. Castiel had never known such a cry could come from a person. It was filled with such agony that made his heart drop in his chest. His attention snapped to Sam when he yelled over at two men to come to him. The tone Sam used left no room for doubt or hesitation the two men bounded over. He pulled his gun from his holster and a rifle from his saddle.

"You watch him and DO NOT let him escape!" There was no arguing with him. Castiel was a little shocked. Sam was usually quiet, and Dean was the one issuing orders. But the tone he used possessed such strength, Castiel would not have recognized it if he hadn't seen it come from him. Sam flew off his horse and sprinted toward the building without the slightest hesitation. He was about seven feet away, however, when he heard a crash to his right. He whipped his head to see Dean soaring from the now broken window with a small boy clutched to his chest. Dean landed flat on his back, no doubt to save the kid from having to take any of the blow. The window was only about three or four feet from the ground, but landing the way Dean did with 80 pounds on-top of him had to hurt.

Dean gave out a long, deep cough and slowly made to sit up once the kid had bolted towards his mom, who was sobbing tears of joy at her saved son. Sam was at his side before he knew it.

"Dean! Dean, talk to me man! Doctor!" The town doctor was rushing toward him, his medic bag swinging in his hand.

"I'm fine Sam." He turned and waved off the approaching doctor. "Go help the kid, he was in there longer than I was."

"You sure you're all right man?"

"I'm fine" he asserted. If Sam had a silver piece for every time he heard that... He wasn't about to push him any more though, that would only piss Dean off. Dean picked himself off the ground, swatting away Sam's hand as he tried to help him up.

"Hey Sam."

Sam turned to him, thinking he was finally going to admit he needed some help.

"Did it look cool when I jumped out the window?" Dean asked, giving him a huge grin.

Sam gave him a disbelieving stare. Here he was, worried about him, and he's making stupid comments. He almost ran into a crumbling building to get him! Sam scoffed and turned around to walk back to the horses. "You're a friggen jerk!"

"What?" he heard Dean ask behind him, as if he had no clue what he did wrong.

Castiel sat and watched the scene unfold. As Dean came flying out the window, a little nudge from the back of his mind caught his attention, telling him that now would be the perfect chance to escape while everyone's attention was on the Rebel.

Then why didn't he move?

He couldn't understand it. Any of it. His mind was frozen and working furiously at the same time. He snapped out of the trance he was in to find the two men giving the Winchesters their guns back. He inwardly cursed at his stupidity; it may have just cost him his life. Something was nagging at him though. It settled in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Annoyance ran through him as he could not get rid of the feeling, just buzzing around in the back of his head.

Searching out the nearest inn, they rented a room for the night so they could head out the next morning. After Dean tied Castiel to a chair, he began to search for a new set of clothing; one that didn't smell of smoke and had burn holes through it.

"Dean! Your bleeding!"

Dean looked around at his brothers exclamation. His right shoulder had been aching a little where he broke the window open. Sure enough, a red stain appeared on his jacket.

"Oh yeah, look at that" he commented in a seemingly interested voice, as if he hadn't noticed it at all until now (which was partly true). "I'm sure it's just a small cut Samantha, calm down"

Sam huffed at the nickname. "At least let me check it out. Put some bandages on it." A sour look from his brother made him add "Just to stop the bleeding" in a placating tone.

Dean sighed knowing that it was a losing battle. He shrugged off his jacket and took off his shirt, being a bit more gentle around his shoulder. He jumped a little as Sam's cold hand made contact with his bare back. "Dude, your hands are freezing" he complained, mostly for the sake of complaining.

Sam, knowing Dean was just trying to be difficult, ignored his comment. Continuing to examine the wound, it turned out that Dean was actually right; the cuts weren't very deep. "They're not bad, but I think we should still patch it up so you don't bleed on everything. Get the bandages from your bag."

"They're in your bag, get them yourself."

"I told you to grab some before we broke off from the rest of the group. They should be in yours."

Dean's mind flashed back to when Sam actually had told him to pack the medical equipment. Whoops. "Yeah, about that…. I forgot."

"Dean!"

"Well c'mon I was eating!" he defended himself with, like that was an actual excuse.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I guess I'll go talk to the doctor, he'll have bandages," he stated, clearly annoyed with Dean's forgetfulness.

"Bring back some food too. Oh! See if they got any pie."

"Man" Sam whined

"Bring me some pie!"

Sam left the room shaking his head, unamused. Dean looked over to Castiel. A silence filled the room. "He better get some pie." Dean joked in a serious tone, mostly to break the silence. Castiel didn't help the cause, as he didn't say anything back. Yep, this was awkward.

"Why did you do it?"

The sudden question surprised Dean. He looked around the room, putting on a confused face. "Do what?"

"Why did you risk your life for that boy?"

Dean wasn't really sure how to answer. "Because I could"

"You didn't even know him. You could have died. Yet you ran into the burning building anyway. Why?"

Dean turned to really look at Castiel. He was not, of course, worried for Dean's wellbeing. He looked at Dean with a deep confusion.

"A kid was trapped, and I saw an opportunity to save him. If I could have done something but I just stood there, his death would be on me. I did it because no one else could."

No, this isn't right. This isn't what he was told about Rebels. They were supposed to be near savages, unruly and violent. Thinking back at the past couple days, Castiel saw that wasn't the truth. But this, this was beyond any excuses he may have made up for ignoring the truth that was staring him in the face. He was lied to. This Rebel just committed a completely selfless act. He had nothing to gain by going into that building. Castiel sat there, trying to make heads and tails of his life. He was raised with one purpose: to serve the Garrison. He was taught to protect the government and eliminate all those who undermined it. But they lied to him. What else have they lied to him about? The thought spread through his mind like a virus.

"Hey – uh," Dean shifted uncomfortably, "You alright man? You don't look so good."

They were practically sworn enemies, and the Rebel just asked if he was alright. Castiel started hyperventilating.

"Whoa, uh," Dean looked around helplessly. What was he supposed to do? He wished Sam were here; he'd know what to do. "Dude… it's… look, you don't…."

Castiel was able to calm himself while Dean fumbled with his words. Dean seemed to relax once his breathing returned to normal. The next thing he knew, his left hand was released from the ropes on the chair. Dean stood above him with a bottle of whiskey in his hands, outstretching it for him to take. Hesitating for only a moment, he pushed all caution to the wind and grabbed the bottle to take a deep drink. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed across from him.

"Thanks" Castiel mumbled a little awkwardly. He needed that.

Dean shrugged. "Sam gets the same look sometimes. Just thought you could use some."

Castiel remembered the night Sam came home drunk, and how Dean told him it wasn't his fault. "What happened to him?"

Dean hesitated; it wasn't exactly his story to tell. "He was engaged, but the girl was killed by a Demon. I won't go into details though, if you want to know more you'll have to ask Sam yourself."

Castiel nodded his head and took another swig from the bottle. Now they had families too.

By the time Sam got back, Castiel had depleted a good portion of the bottle and had already handed it back to Dean. His hand re-tied to the chair, he was sleeping already. Sam patched up Dean and offered to take the first watch. Dean agreed and collapsed on his bed.

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><p><strong>Thoughts?<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Dean tipped the brim of his hat downwards to cover his eyes from the bright sun. His shoulder hadn't bothered him much today, just a dull throb of protest from riding all day. He looked back to Sam and Cas. The Angel didn't look much better than he had the previous night. He bore the same disgruntled expression and seemed to be deep in thought over something. Sam had a passive look, a little bored if anything. He gave Dean an inquisitive glance once he noticed him looking back. Giving his younger brother a nod, he turned his attention back to the clearing in front of him. Rebels had cleared off a trail in the forest in order to travel in the cover of the woods. He shifted uncomfortably upon his black horse. The heat today was terrible. He decided they would stop a little earlier today than previous days; the heat had taken much of their energy.

After riding for a while longer, Dean pulled the reins on his horse to stop.

"Alright, we'll stop here for the night." He expected Sam to question why he stopped this early, but was surprised when Sam quietly slid off his horse. Another look at his sibling told him that he was just as tired as he was.

Dean jumped off his horse and walked over to Cas to help him off of his. Dean handed him a flask full of water and gave him a small push toward where Sam was making up camp.

They had eaten their dinner and had begun packing up their excess supplies when Dean heard it. The snap of a twig breaking sent him into alert as he scanned the area as quickly as he could.

"Dean what's wrong?" Sam asked, seeing his brother tense up.

"Shh" was the only reply. The group made no movement or sound, all searching for any signs of life. Cas was none too calm either, he knew that there would be no other Garrison members this far from the Frontier.

The only sounds that could be heard were from the wind and distant crickets.

Dean was about to lower his drawn gun when he heard a rustle of leaves to his right and a feral cry. He spun to aim his gun at the intruder but was too late. He heard Sam call his name in worry as he was tackled to the ground, knocking his gun out of his hands. Looking up to face his enemy, he was immediately filled with hatred.

A Demon looked down upon him with wild eyes. It was human, but barely.

Demons were a barbaric and primitive race. They formed into tribes and thrived upon violence. They made common practice out of ransacking a village for supplies, or just did it for the sport of killing people. Ever since Michael had taken the throne, Demons had thrived, growing in numbers and ferocity. They all looked the same to Dean. Every Demon had chaotic black hair and the eyes to match it. Their skin held tattoo's with strange symbols, covering their entire body. Their clothes were rags and their teeth were slightly pointed.

Dean growled in disgust and struggled to regain control. His attention was diverted, however, when another Demon burst into the clearing and attacked Sam before he could reach Dean. The Demon attacking Dean pulled a jagged knife from its person. Dean reached up and grabbed the Demon's hand as it descended down towards him, resisting the blade that hovered above him. Using all of his strength, he pushed the knife away from him and kicked at the Demon. In one swift move, he rolled himself and the Demon so that their positions were switched. Punching it in the face made it loosen its grip upon the knife, allowing Dean to take it and thrust it into the Demons chest. It gave one last scream before it fell limp under him.

Dean whipped his head around to look for Sam. Before he could react, the Demon had hit Sam and, while he was disoriented, went in for the kill stroke with its blade.

"NO!" yelled Dean. Time seemed to slow down; charging at the pair, panic and dread filled him as he knew he wouldn't be able to reach them in time. He watched in slow motion as the Demon's weapon descended upon his brother. Not a second later, the loud noise of a gun being fired filled the clearing. The Demon fell to the ground before the knife reached its intended target.

Both Dean and Sam stood in shock for a second before they realized what happened. They whipped their heads around to see Castiel leveling a gun at the now-dead Demon. Sam quickly dived to reach his gun that had been knocked away from him and trained it on the Angel.

"Drop it! Now!" Sam commanded.

Castiel, with his still-bound hands clutching the gun, hesitated before dropping it and slowly opened his palms to show his hands were empty. Dean grabbed his gun from the ground and stepped out of reach from the Angel. He stared wide-eyed at Castiel.

He just saved Sammy.

No, there was some alter motive behind this. There's no way an Angel would save a Rebel. It was a ploy. But he just saved his little brother. Any longer and Sammy would be…

"Dean. Dean?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, reason returned to Dean.

"We need to go. There could be more Demons around. Sam pack up whatever's out."

Castiel watched as the two men packed up what little supplies they had taken out for camp. He was just as shocked as the Rebels seemed to be over his actions. He didn't know what provoked him to save the Rebel. Just the other day he despised them. He was their captive, so why did he aim at the Demon and not the Rebel?

It didn't take long to pack up their things. Sam grabbed his map from his saddle and rolled it out on the ground in front of him. In the very center of the map was Heofon, with the rest of the cities and towns circling it. The cities nearest to Heofon were boxed in red, meaning that there was a strong Garrison influence within it. A red circle surrounded Heofon and its surrounding cities, marking the Frontier, an area that was entirely regulated by the Garrison. There were scattered cities outside the Frontier that held a strong Garrison influence, but the farther outside the circle one got, the less Garrison members one would find.

"Where to Sammy? We can't keep riding by the woods, there are bound to be more Demons close by and I don't think they're going to be too happy with us."

Sam frantically scanned the map. "I don't know man. All the other towns we've stopped at have accepted Rebel help, but we don't know how the towns around here will react to us. We haven't had any need to make contact with them since the forest usually gave Rebels the cover we needed to travel."

"So what? It's far enough away from the Frontier, there shouldn't be any Angels patrolling the area."

"Dean, turning a Rebel into the Garrison has its rewards. We don't know if the town will turn on us or help us."

"Then we won't tell them who we are."

Sam ran a hand over his face in frustration. "Dean you're not thinking! Look at him," he said, pointing to Castiel. "He's wearing an Angel's uniform and is bound to a horse. They'll know exactly what's going on!"

"If we stay here the Demons will find us, Sam. We can't take on a full tribe! People can be reasoned with, Demons will _kill_ us. We need to get out of these woods and to the nearest town before they can catch up to us. I like it just as much as you do, but I'm not seeing another option here."

Sam thought about it more before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Alright, then, Adéman is closest to where we are."

Dean gave a nod and turned his attention to Castiel. He gave him another inquisitive glance before ordering the Angel to get on his horse. They rode into town at a quickened pace. When they arrived they searched for an inn, and the discriminatory glances from the townspeople did not go unnoticed.

Just as Sam leaned over to Dean to tell him that maybe this was a bad idea after all, they heard the sound of a rifle loading behind them. They froze.

"Hands up!" said a voice behind them.

Dean gave Sam a guilty glance before slowly raising his hands above his head. Sam followed suit.

"I said hands up!"

Annoyance sparked in Dean before he realized that they had tied Castiel's hands to the saddle horn on his horse. "He can't," Dean insisted carefully, "His hands are bound."

The man rode in front of them upon his horse, followed by several other men, keeping his rifle trained upon them. Dean noticed the yellow star pinned to his vest.

"So what can we do for you Sheriff?" Dean asked casually, keeping his hands raised.

"You can start by telling me what the hell Rebels are doing in Adéman. Besides causing trouble."

"We're not here to cause trouble, just lookin' for a place to stay for the night. That's all. We'll be outta here by morning."

"You'll be out of here sooner than that. We don't take to kindly to Rebels around here."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed," Dean attempted humor. The Sheriff didn't look amused. So Dean grew serious. "Look, we were in the woods before we were attacked by Demons. We just need a place to lay low while things cool off."

The Sheriff made no move as he thought about what Dean had said. His gun loosened in his hands. "You can stay here for one night. But I expect you to be out of my town by sunrise."

Lowering his hands, Dean nodded in agreement. "Thank you."

"Only thing worse than a Rebel is a Demon. I'm granting you this one favor. Don't expect any help from us in the future." With that he lowered his gun completely and rode off with his men.

Dean gave a low whistle. "Dodged a bullet there, eh Sammy?" he said smiling. Sam pursed his lips and nudged the sides of his horse to start walking. Dean rolled his eyes. "C'mon Sam we're fine." When Sam did nothing but kept riding, Dean gave a sigh and prodded his horse to catch up, trailing Castiel behind.

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><p><strong>Please Review<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

They entered the inn and strolled up to the front desk. Dean made a point to tell Castiel that he would have his hand on his gun the whole time. The man at the front desk grudgingly gave them a set of keys to a room and they began to walk to it when Dean noticed the bar area.

"Hey Sam, check it out," he said, nodding his head at the blonde barmaid and bouncing his eyebrows.

Sam followed the direction he was referring to and groaned when he saw what Dean was referring to. "Not here. Not now."

Grumbling something about Sam not being very fun, Dean led the way to their room. They had gotten settled in when Dean grabbed some money from his bag.

"Well I don't know about you, but I could use a drink. I'll be back."

Sam absentmindedly nodded his head. Then his eyes grew wide and jerked his head up in realization. "Dean, no, we can't cause any trouble here, we're already on thin ice!"

"Sam I'm just going to get a bottle of whiskey, that's all. No trouble."

"So harassing the barmaid doesn't constitute as trouble anymore? The last thing we need right now is for you to get in a fight with the girl's boyfriend, or for her father to come after you with a gun-"

"That only happened one time, Sam, once!"

"Just – keep it in your pants tonight. Please. That's all I'm asking."

"I think your overreacting. I was just going to get a drink."

Sam strode over to Dean and grabbed the money from his hands. "Great. Then I'll get it for you."

"What's this world coming to when a man can't even buy his own drink?" Dean said in sarcasm. Sam ignored the comment and left. Dean gave a sigh. Then he remembered he wasn't the only one in the room. Damn, how is it he's always alone with the Angel? The events of the day returned to him in their silence. He cast a suspicious eye upon Castiel.

"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work." There was no way he was going to let the Angel manipulate him. He didn't know the Angels reason for saving Sam, but whatever it was, it can't be good.

Castiel gave Dean a confused look. "I am not planning anything."

"I don't know why you saved my brother, but I don't owe you anything. So don't even think about it." That was a lie. As much as he hated it, and as much as it frustrated him, Dean owed his brother's life to this Angel. That wasn't something he could just push aside or forget.

"I do not know what provoked me to shoot that Demon," Castiel admitted, looking to the ground. From the tone of his voice and the perplexed look on his face, Dean believed him. He knew he shouldn't, but he did.

There was silence before Dean finally spoke. "Well… Its just that….um. Thanks." Thanking the Angel felt just as awkward as it sounded.

So the Rebel leader had a sense of humility after all. Castiel was surprised at the thank you, to say the least. He knew that the leader cared about his brother a great deal just from the way he acted around him. He was obviously protective of him. And yet, it still came as a surprise. The awkward way it came out suggested that he either didn't say it very often or he had difficulties saying it to a Garrison member. Or both.

Castiel gave a nod in place of 'you're welcome'. Then there was an awkward silence. There was something bothering him though. "Why do these townspeople hold such animosity towards Rebels? I thought you helped towns?" He had witnessed them giving supplies to another town, but clearly they weren't liked by this one.

Dean seemed relieved that the subject was changed. "Shouldn't you know the answer to this?"

"The other town seemed to accept you just fine." Castiel added, a little defensively.

"The Garrison doesn't exactly approve of towns helping Rebels. You know what happens then. Either you tax the hell out of the town or you pick random people to be imprisoned or killed for helping us."

Castiel opened his mouth to defend his brothers but then quickly shut it, thinking better of the situation. Sam walked in, and Dean jumped up to grab the whiskey from his hands.

"I was just telling Cas here why the town hates us."

Sam frowned. "I don't think it's that they hate us, I think it's just that they don't want to be caught in the crossfire. Can't blame them for looking after their own."

"No, but it'd be a hell of a lot easier," Dean interjected

Sam cracked a smile. "Yeah, can't argue with you there."

The next morning, Dean grudgingly got out of bed before the sun rose, telling an impatient Sam that people were not meant to be up this early. They were packing up their things when they heard a frantic knock at the door.

"Yeah, yeah, we're leaving!" Dean shouted at the door. He turned to Sam and grumbled, "Sheesh, the sun just rose. I didn't think they'd be so stiff about this."

Another round of frantic knocking had the brothers giving each other meaningful looks, each realizing something wasn't right. Both Dean and Sam strode over to the door, swinging it open to reveal a panic-stricken maid.

"Please, you have to leave they're almost in town! If they find out we helped you we will all suffer!" she blurted in one breath.

"Whoa, slow down. Who's almost in town?" Dean questioned

"Angels!"

Panic erupted in Dean, but he managed to keep it at bay. He put both hands on the women's shoulders in an attempt to calm her and get her focused. "How much time do we have? Is there somewhere we can hide until they leave?"

She shook her head with wide eyes. "No, some fool will try and turn you in thinking the Angel's will show us favor. You have to leave, you cannot be found."

Dean inhaled deeply. This was not good. "Sam, grab what we have packed and get out of here. We'll get on our horses and leave immediately." He turned to get his bag, but the maid grabbed his arm.

"No! They'll be here within minutes, they'll see you if you go out front. You can take the two horses in the back and return them tonight… Please," she implored

Dean thought for a second, and then looked back at Sam to see what he thought. Once he received a nod from his brother, Dean agreed. "If they find out we were here you lead them to any other room, got it?" They didn't have time to pack everything.

The maid let out a sigh of relief and nodded, leaving the brothers to scramble with their things.

"Dean, wait, what are we going to do about Castiel? We only have two horses, and we won't be able to move fast enough if we share."

"Damn it!" Dean paced back and forth. If the Angels found Castiel he would tell them everything. But if they took him with them, they would risk getting caught and put the town in a terrible position. "We have to leave him here. His Angel uniform is a dead giveaway, plus he would probably try his hardest to give away our position. We'll leave him here and get him when we come back." Damn, he hated this plan. Re-checking Castiel's ropes to make sure they were tight, he pulled out a bandana from his pocket. "Sorry," he said to Castiel in a tone that made him think the Rebel wasn't really all that sorry, "But I can't have you yelling for help." He gagged the Angel and grabbed his bag, following Sam out the door.

Walking quickly down the hallways with Sam, Dean relayed his plan. "After we get the horses in the back, we'll have to split up. We'll be less noticeable that way. Walk your horse to the edge of town, don't ride it. And stay out of sight! Start riding at a normal pace until they notice you; then you ride like a bat out of hell until you reach the forest. I'll try and meet up with you there, otherwise we'll meet back in town before sunset, the Angel's should be gone by then. Got it?"

"Yeah Dean, I got it."

They exited the building and found two light brown horses tied to a post. Grabbing the reins to one of the horses Dean turned to his brother. "Watch yourself Sammy."

Sam stared at him for a moment before nodding. "You too."

They were in dangerous territory here, and they knew it.

Dean crept along the backsides of the buildings, slowly making his way to the edge of town. The town was silent, there was nobody on the streets and all the doors and windows were closed. Dean peeked around the corner of a building and watched a group of Angel's approach the Sheriff on horseback, who was sitting on his own horse in the middle of the street with two men flanking each side. Dean swore under his breath; there were at least fifteen Angels in the town.

"What can we do for you?" the Sheriff asked the Angel leader rather stiffly. He looked the Sheriff up and down before replying.

"We're here to collect taxes," he said in a haughty tone, after officially introducing himself as lead commander Zachariah.

The Sheriff shifted uncomfortably upon his horse. "We've already paid our taxes this month."

"Taxes have been raised." The uncaring way in which he said it made Dean's blood boil. His hand twitched to his gun on his holster, but he restrained himself; he was too outnumbered.

After a moment of complete silence, the Sheriff spoke. "Please, we're a small town. We don't have the money right now. We already took a blow from the last payment."

The man on the left of the Sheriff shifted on his horse. "Sheriff, maybe we could..."

The Sheriff shot a warning glance toward his companion. He shook his head slightly. The man pursed his lips, but then turned back to the Angels.

"We have two Rebels here. Will the reward from their capture cover the taxes?"

The Angel leaders face grew serious. "You mean to tell me you've been harboring fugitives?" The Sheriff's eyes grew wide as he started to protest, but the leader didn't allow him to speak. He turned to the other Angels. "Search the town. Find them by any means necessary."

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><p><strong>Sorry guys, didn't mean for the update to take so long. Thanks for reading, reviews are awesome =)<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

The Sherriff's companion stepped forward again. "They're staying at the inn." He began to grow uneasy as the Angels began spreading out through the town, some looking down streets while others broke down doors to search buildings.

"If anyone in your town helps these fugitives hide, there will be severe consequences," the Angel leader said coldly. "Sheriff, why are these men staying at the inn and not the jail house?"

The man next to the Sheriff gave him an apologetic gaze as the Sheriff stood stalk still, not knowing how to answer. He was saved from having to answer, however, when the sounds of shots rang out.

Dean spun around to try and figure out what the Angels were shooting at. Sam burst out into the streets and bolted towards the other end of town, urging his horse toward the exit. Dean's stomach dropped; he had to think fast. An idea came to him. He didn't like it. But it was better than the current situation. Moving out into the streets, he pulled his gun from his holster and aimed for the three Angels chasing Sam. Three bullets were all it took. His horse reared as he fired three more shots into the sky, drawing the attention of all the Garrison members. Satisfied that the attention was off of Sam, Dean kicked the sides of his horse, urging it to go faster. Bullets flew past his head occasionally, and he was thankful that they weren't able to reach their intended target.

His heart sank when the horse he was riding gave a terrible screech, and before he knew it the ground was coming up to meet him. Groaning, he pulled his leg out from underneath the weight of the fallen horse and looked at what caused his downfall. The horse lay dead beside him, bleeding out where the bullet landed. Dean didn't know whether to curse his luck or to be thankful that the bullet hadn't hit him.

He staggered to his feet as Garrison members approached him upon their horses, circling him and jeering with their guns drawn.

"Zachariah, can we kill him?" one of the Angels shouted out as a man entered the circle upon his horse at a casual pace. His face bore a sneer as he looked down condescendingly at him. Dean hated him immediately. He lifted his gun and swiftly pointed it directly at the Angel leader. All at once he heard the shuffle and clicks of guns being aimed at him from the surrounding Garrison.

The man, who Dean figured to be Zachariah and was clearly in charge, raised a hand, telling his men to wait. He turned back to Dean, that arrogant sneer still in place. The Angels that surrounded him all got off their horses and began to slowly move closer to him, creating a circle that made it impossible to escape.

"Well how very brave of you. But nonetheless stupid."

Dean only glared at Zachariah while he was surrounded by fifteen Garrison members, all holding him at gunpoint. He kept his gun trained on the Angel leader.

"Drop your weapon."

Dean continued to glare.

"Drop your weapon now, I won't ask again."

Dean held his position for another moment before a scowl broke out on his face. He dropped his gun.

"Now kick it over. Good. Down on your knees."

Dean shot the leader his best cocky smile, silently telling him that he could shove it. It became clear that he would not do what the leader asked. Zachariah gave one of his men a nod, and Dean was roughly kicked in the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground.

"Sir! We found an Angel held hostage in the room."

Zachariah's head snapped toward Dean and his eyes narrowed. "Bring the Angel here" he commanded to the other Garrison members, eyes never leaving Dean.

Dean looked over to the inn to see the man who had assigned them their room the previous day, crossing his arms and looking down on the situation with disdain. He gave away their room number. Selfish bastard. Castiel walked over with the Garrison member and dropped to one knee in front of Zachariah.

"Rise, brother. Now, tell me your name."

"Castiel, sir."

The Garrison leader's head once again turned on Dean. "It was you. You are responsible for the attack of the small Angel fleet."

Dean smirked, finding nothing funny about the situation. "Well maybe you assholes should stick to the Frontier. Much safer."

Unease rippled through the group as all Angels turned a murderous eye to him, all of their weapon hands giving a twitch.

Zachariah scoffed. "What is your name?"

Dean again smirked at him, as if he wasn't surrounded by a fleet of angry Garrison members who wanted nothing more than his life. The Garrison leader nodded to a man behind him. Dean received a blow to the back of his head. With a grunt of pain he fell to the ground, only to have two men grab his arms and force him to his knees again.

"I asked you a question boy."

Again he did nothing but stare defiantly at the leader. A man punched him hard in his face several times, and then kicked him in the stomach, causing him to slouch in the men's hold. He felt the sharp pain as he was roughly grabbed by his short hair and forced to look up at Zachariah.

"You'll find that I'm not very patient with Rebel scum, so I'll ask you once more. What is your name?"

Dean gave him a bloody smile, and then spat the excess blood in his mouth at the Angel's feet.

"Sir, maybe Castiel knows the man's identity" one of the Garrison members shot out.

Zachariah held his glare with Dean for another moment before turning to Castiel.

"Well? Do you know this Rebel's name?"

Castiel looked at Dean for a moment before turning back to his leader. Dean's heart pounded in his chest as the silence enveloped the town.

"Yes, sir. His name is Dean Winchester."

A series of murmurs rippled across the camp.

Zachariah smiled cruelly down at Dean

"Well, well, well. Dean Winchester."

Shit. Not good. Dean smiled back as if it didn't faze him. "Well this is just embarrassing. You seem to know who I am, but I have no clue who you are."

"Name's Zachariah. Tell me, how is dear old Daddy Winchester?"

"Alive and kicking" He couldn't help the cocky smile that followed; the Garrison has been after his Dad for years, they even put out a handsome reward if someone else brought him in, dead or alive.

"Hmm. Well how do you think he'll react to his son being captured?"

Damn. His Dad is going to be pissed. His smirk was tainted with annoyance at the Angel leader.

"What, no witty remark? Pity." He nodded to one of his men. "Take him back to camp." He turned his attention to Dean once more. "Bind his wrists too."

Dean grunted as a foot made contact with the small of his back, kicking him to the ground. His wrists were roughly tied behind his back. He was kicked in the stomach once more, and then pulled to his feet.

He and Castiel were brought back to a large camp, Castiel sharing a horse with a fellow Angel, Dean walking. Angels roughly pushed Dean towards a post, binding him to it with rope. He felt a foot connect with his gut, and someone spat by his feet before he was left alone.

Dean looked around him. The camp was large; about twenty tents filled the area. He saw Castiel being led into another tent. He couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. He was starting to like the Angel. He scowled at his stupidity. Of course Castiel would never betray the Garrison, especially for a Rebel. He really did think Castiel was different though. He immediately began working on the ropes that bound him.

He had to stop, however, when Cas walked up to him. Cas looked at him then shifted his eyes to the ground.

"I'm sorry" he said in a low voice so that no one would hear.

Dean was taken aback. "For what?"

"Telling them your name. I had no choice. He is a commanding officer."

Dean nodded his head. It all came down to loyalty. He began to chuckle.

Confused, Castiel asked "What is funny?"

"The tables have turned" he smiled, referring to the situation they were in.

Still bearing a confused expression, Casiel stated, "I don't think that's funny"

"Ah, c'mon it's a little funny"

Castiel was beginning to think that he would never understand the Rebel. He was in a dire situation, and yet here he was, cracking jokes?

Aside from glares and sneers from other Garrison members passing by, Dean was left well alone. This was good, as he could feel the ropes around his wrists loosening. It was only a matter of time before he could escape, though he would definitely have to wait until night time. It would be dark in about an hour. He inwardly smirked at the Garrisons arrogance. He was much younger than the average Rebel sent out on missions, but they really should not have underestimated him. They must not have thought he was much of a threat if he could get their rope loose in a couple hours. Or he was just that damn good; either one.

Night fell, and the last of the Garrison were just filing into their tents. Two men sat around the fire, giving the occasional glance toward his direction. He guessed those were his watchmen. They didn't look his way too often, but he would have to get out of there fast, and then hide. Unfortunately the horses were on the other side of the camp, making it near impossible for him to steal one without getting caught.

He made his move right after one of the men glanced at him. He slipped out of the ropes and, crouching low, began to run as fast as he could while remaining unseen and unheard. He was on the outside boundary of the campsite when he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a man cocking his gun.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hey guys, sorry for that short little hiatus I took... Well, I've got some bad news... My muse for this story is currently MIA. I have a little more written but then there will probably be another hiatus period. Sorry =(. However, my muse has been quite taken with a different story I've been writing. I'll be posting the prologue for the story shortly, just to see if anyone would be interested in me continuing it. It'll be another AU fic with Dean and Cas, no slash. So please feel free to check it out! In the meantime I'll search desperately for my muse for this story... But I can't make any promises =(. Anyways, you've been waiting long enough, I'll get on to the chapter now.  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em>He made his move right after one of the men glanced at him. He slipped out of the ropes and, crouching low, began to run as fast as he could while remaining unseen and unheard. He was on the outside boundary of the campsite when he heard it. The unmistakable sound of a man cocking his gun.<em>

* * *

><p>Dean's shoulders tensed as he stopped and slowly looked around.<p>

"And just where do you think you're off to?" the garrison member asked, pointing his gun directly at Dean's heart.

_Damn it! Where the hell did he come from? _ He plastered a smile on his face. "Well, you know, nature called, so..."

Next thing he knew he was being thrown into a tent with a couple new bruises.

"Sir, we caught the Rebel trying to escape"

Zachariah looked up from his map. "And how did he get out of the ropes?" he asked in a calm yet dangerous tone.

The garrison man looked to the ground "I don't know. It appears that he loosened the ropes, sir."

Zachariah only stared at the man. He then turned his attention towards Dean, who was on his knees, slightly crouched over because of his arm being twisted behind his back. "Tie him up in a tent. I want two soldiers inside and four outside." He turned his attention to the garrison member holding Dean. "And don't screw up this time. I don't think I have to remind you that this is John Winchester's son." Now he turned his attention back to Dean. "The next time you try to escape _boy_, there will be consequences."

"Looking forward to it"

* * *

><p>The sun was hot. Sweat beaded down Dean's forehead as he walked, his hands bound together in front of him. He had been walking all day, and he was tired; the Angels kept a brisk pace. Dean kept his eyes open for anything he could use to escape. He had to get out of here; each step he took got him closer to Heofon and lessened his chances of escaping. He was inwardly relieved when the Angels stopped. Dean sunk to his knees and outstretched his bound hands to catch him from falling any further to the ground.<p>

"Hey, I think he's tired," Dean heard someone mock. _Asshole_. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed someone jump off his horse and walk toward him. As soon as he was close enough, Dean swept his leg under the Angel's. Before the man's back hit the ground, Dean was already up and running to the empty horse. He grasped the saddle horn with his hands and put his leg in the stirrup. He began to swing his other leg over to mount the horse when he felt a blow to the back of his head. He hit the ground hard and let out a groan.

"You little shit," he heard someone call out. He twisted his head to see the man who he had knocked off his feet striding towards him. "Get him up," the Angel commanded. Two pairs of arms roughly grabbed him and brought him to his feet. From the blow to the back of his head and walking all day, Dean was leaning on the two men a little more than he would have liked to admit. It wasn't long before a fist landed on his face and he was right back on the ground again.

* * *

><p>Castiel stopped rummaging through his bag when he heard what sounded like a fight. Curious, he walked over to the spot and joined the light circle surrounding the fight. His heart dropped a bit when he saw Dean being held by two of his comrades while a third hit him. He looked over to the Angel standing next to him, then to every face of every onlooker. They all bore amused expressions.<p>

"What happened?" he asked the person standing next to him.

Keeping his eyes on the fight, the Angel laughed. "Winchester knocked Isaiah to the ground and tried to steal his horse. I think Isaiah is just embarrassed that a Rebel with his hands bound got the best of him."

* * *

><p>Dean was hit again. He felt the excess blood gather in his mouth and spit it out to the side. That's when he noticed it. The dagger sticking out of the man's boot. He started laughing.<p>

"What's so funny?" Isaiah demanded.

Dean laughed a little more, then replied. "I just think it's funny that you need two men to help you fight a guy with his hands bound in front of him."

"Fight? You can barely stand"

"Don't be so sure"

* * *

><p>Castiel held his breath as he awaited Isaiah's response. Isaiah nodded to the men holding Dean. "Alright Rebel, let's see what you got."<p>

The men released him and he stumbled for balance. He spit out the rest of his excess blood and stood. He then charged at Isaiah, tackling him to the ground. After a brief struggle from both of them, Dean took a hit to the head and the Angel was able to push him off. Castiel watched as Isaiah got up, kicked Dean in the gut, and laughed as Dean lay on the ground. Isaiah began to walk away when Dean slowly started to get up. _Damn it Dean, just stay down_.

"He's getting back up!" Isaiah laughed. "Why don't you do yourself a favor and stay the hell down? Then maybe -"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Castiel didn't know where he got it from, but Dean's hands were no longer bound, and he had swiftly grabbed Isaiah and was holding a dagger to his neck.

"Why don't you do yourself a favor and shut the hell up," Dean growled in the Angel's ear while pushing the dagger into his neck just enough to make it bleed. Every watching Angel that had a weapon drew their guns and aimed it at Dean. The Rebel's grip only tightened on Isaiah, using him as a shield. "I'd drop your weapons now if you want your friend back in one piece." Dean slowly started backing up to the empty horse, dragging Isaiah with him. Castiel wondered how he planned to get on the horse and escape, but the problem disappeared when another Angel came up behind Dean. He must not have noticed or heard the Angel. The Angel knocked him over the head with his gun and he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Isaiah breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed at his neck where Dean had been holding the dagger.

Then Zachariah walked up to the spot. Everyone froze and snapped to attention. He had probably been watching the whole situation. He walked over to Dean's unconscious body and used his foot to turn Dean's face, making sure he was fully knocked out. He then bent down to the ground and picked up the dagger that Dean had used and inspected it.

"Whose dagger is this?" he asked.

Isaiah shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "It's mine, sir."

"What's your name soldier?"

"Isaiah, sir."

Zachariah considered this for a moment. Then he pointed the dagger at Isaiah's chest. "Well Isaiah, I cannot tell you how important it is that we bring in Winchester to Heofon. If there is _anything_ that hinders that plan, I will see to it myself that the _hindrance_ is eliminated. Do I make myself clear?"

The dagger was now resting on Isaiah's chest. He downcast his eyes and nodded.

"I _said_," Zachariah asserted, putting more pressure on the dagger, "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, control him."

* * *

><p>Castiel walked into Zachariah's tent. The Angel leader was working on something so Castiel waited for him to acknowledge his presence. Finally, Zachariah set down his quill and looked up to him.<p>

"Ah, Castiel. What can I do for you?"

"Sir, I was only wondering what the plans were pertaining to the Rebel."

"We're bringing him to Heofon, of course. From there he'll be thrown into the prison and, well," he paused to smirk, "_coerced_ into telling us Rebel secrets. No doubt he knows them all."

Castiel ignored the unsettling feeling rising within him. "If he is meant to stay alive until then, I am concerned about whether his current treatment will assure that status. Sir."

Zachariah stared at him pointedly. "Are you questioning my authority? I will not tolerate you speaking to me in such a manner, soldier," he snapped

Castiel's eyes grew wide when he realized that he had, in fact, just questioned his leader's authority. "Forgive me, I have forgotten my place."

Casting an analytical eye down at Castiel, Zachariah sighed. "Of course, this is to be expected. I'm willing to be lenient considering your situation."

Castiel's head tilted to the side in confusion. "My…situation, sir?"

"After being held captive by those _mud monkeys_ I can only imagine you would be a little unsettled" he smiled. "An important lesson for you to learn Castiel," he said, smiling at him like he was doing him a real favor by giving him advice, "a captive enemy becomes increasingly pliant when he is tired and hungry. Not only that, but he must learn that his attempts at escape are futile and will not go unpunished."

"Of course, sir"

* * *

><p>Sam watched as the Garrison surrounded his brother. He turned to go back and defend Dean when the sheriff blocked his path.<p>

"You some kind of stupid?" he asked incredulously.

Sam jerked the reins of his horse to move around the sheriff. "Move."

"You can't go over there! You're outnumbered, they'll kill you!"

"I have to, that's my brother!"

The sheriff's eyes softened with pity. "You have to let it go, son. You have to get out of here or you'll both be dead. A sorry way to repay your brother for what he just did for you."

"I didn't ask him to do anything! He just committed suicide!" he replied angrily. The sheriff only looked at him with pity. "God damnit!" he ran both hands through his hair.

"Get out of here. Hide in the woods. Don't return until sundown."

Conflict was written all over Sam's face. He gave another longing look at his brother with wet eyes. He nodded. "You're right…. You're right." He hated to say it. Hated it. It was the only option at this point. He would get a group of Rebels and find his brother before they reached the Frontier.

When he returned at sundown, there was no trace of the Garrison or his brother except for the unsettled ground where they had captured Dean. He rode up to the inn where they had stayed and jumped down from the borrowed horse. He walked over to his own to check and see if it was alright. Then he noticed Dean's horse. He outstretched his hand to pet the jet-black side of the horse. The horse whinnied softly.

"Yeah, I miss him already too."

He pushed it from his mind. He was finding his brother; there was no doubt about it. Mounting his horse, he noticed the sheriff walking towards him.

"Thank you for allowing us to stay the night. I'll be leaving now."

The sheriff nodded. "Can I ask your name Rebel?"

"Sam Winchester," he replied, not bothering to stop getting ready to go.

The sheriffs eyes widened with recognition. "Well then tell your father he can expect help from Adéman. We've stood by far too long now."

Sam gave a surprised look at the sheriff. "Thank you." He would have been more happy about the situation had his brother not been…. He had to go. Sam flicked the reins of his horse and headed towards the outside of town, trailing Dean's horse behind him. He would want him when he returns. Kicking the sides of his horse, he urged his horse towards Lawrence. Towards his father.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean couldn't take it anymore. His legs just couldn't support his weight any longer. He fell to the ground, unable to catch himself because of the ropes wrapping around his torso. Ever since his attempt at escape, the Angels decided it would be better if the full length of his arms were restrained as well as his hands. He barely registered the pain as his head slammed into the ground. Borderline unconscious, he felt himself continue to be dragged behind a horse before he heard a distant shout and the movement stopped. Dean was faintly aware of people talking around him before he willingly gave himself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Someone had called for a halt. Castiel looked around for the reason though it wasn't hard to guess. Looking back he noticed Dean on the ground. He slid off his horse and joined the rest of the group circling Dean.<p>

"This Rebel is more trouble than it's worth."

"I say we drag him to Heofon."

Zachariah seemed to consider that option for a moment. A disappointed look crossed his face. "No, that has the potential of killing him."

* * *

><p>Dean slowly opened his eyes, his head pounding. Looking around he found that he was in a tent, yet again bound to a post. Apparently it was necessary to bind his legs too. He weakly tested the ropes, already knowing they wouldn't give much. God, why did his head hurt? Trying to get past the cloud of pain to remember what happened, he finally recalled falling; and then breaking that fall with his head. He groaned and rested his head back against the post he was tied to.<p>

"Hello Dean"

Dean jumped in his seat when he was greeted from behind. Closing his eyes, Dean forced himself to calm down. Castiel walked to the front of the tent so Dean could see him.

"Do you get your freak on watching people sleep or something?" he replied angrily, a bit bitter of his situation. He gave a slight wince as the motion of him talking pulled on some scrapes on the right side of his face. Then he remembered being dragged a ways before they stopped.

"I volunteered to take watch over you for the time being."

"Well aren't you just a Good Samaritan?" he said dryly

Castiel sighed and pulled out a knife. Dean eyed the knife, tensing as Castiel disappeared behind him again. The ropes around his torso tightened before they fell loose at his sides. He felt Castiel grab his forearm then cut the ropes around his wrist as well. An inaudible gasp escaped Dean; it seemed like ages ago that his upper body was free of any restraints.

Castiel walked back around with a plate of food. "You should eat."

Dean looked down to the plate, then continued to stretch his arms, his muscles sore from being in the same position for that long. "I'm not hungry."

This coming from the man he had seen demolish plate after plate of food a week prior. Castiel looked sadly down at the Rebel. "Dean, please eat something."

"Why should I?" He questioned defiantly. He didn't want to eat; he wanted to get the hell out of this tent. He wanted to jump on his horse and just ride, not stopping until he reached Lawrence.

Castiel was quiet for a moment. "Because you fainted from exhaustion."

"And?"

Castiel gave him an angry confused look, as if to ask 'does there really need to be any other reason'. "_And_ they had a debate on whether dragging you into Heofon would kill you if this happened again."

Dean paused at that. A familiar idea returned to him: escape. He looked down to the ropes around his legs then back up at Castiel. The Angel was wearing a holster belt around his waist, complete with a gun at his side.

"I don't see why _you_ care."

"I- I don't," he replied, breaking eye contact for a second. A moment of silenced passed where neither spoke. Castiel broke the silence first. "Why do you make this so difficult?"

"…What?"

"Just tell the Angels what they want to know. Save yourself. Why put yourself through this? If you had any idea what's in store for you at Heofon-"

"I know exactly what's in store for me at Heofon," Dean growled. "Do you think I'm underestimating my situation? I know exactly what dicks like you do when you capture people like me. I know what my last name means to you, but I'm telling you right now you'll get nothing from me."

"That is not logical," the Angel insisted, frustrated. "If you know what you will go through, why would you subject yourself to that?"

"Why didn't you tell me anything when I tried getting information out of you?"

"I serve a purpose greater than my own."

"And you think I don't?"

"I- that is different" he stammered

"You damn Angels are all the same," he scoffed. "Believe what you want, you can all go screw yourselves."

Castiel saw nothing but defiance in the Rebel's eyes. He wanted Dean to live. It had taken him all this time to realize it, but it was undeniable. He liked the Rebel, he was a good man. He was unlike anyone he had ever met.

"Dean it's not worth your life. You _will_ die."

"_Melior morior bellator, quam ago profugus."_

_That _caught Castiel's attention. "The old language," he breathed. The language was lost long ago; only a select number of people knew it now. He had been surprised when he heard Winchester use it as a password to get into the Rebel base. He was about to ask what the phrase meant when another Angel entered the tent. He looked down upon Dean with disdain before looking back to Castiel.

"Castiel, Zachariah would like to see you in his tent."

Giving a final glance at Dean, he thanked his brother and went to find his leader.

* * *

><p>"Sam, I'm sorry, It can't be done."<p>

"Ellen, this isn't anyone we're talking about, this is Dean!"

"I know. But we can't just storm into the frontier. We have no idea the direction they took, all we know is the destination. We may be so bold as to go into the frontier every now and then, but never to the heart of the damn thing. It would be suicide to send Rebels into Heofon."

"Fine, then I'll go myself," he replied stubbornly. He turned to leave when Ellen grabbed his forearm tightly. The sympathy in her eyes was still there, but they were overpowered by a newfound anger.

"Don't be a damn fool, boy. You don't think they're already thrilled to get their hands on one Winchester? What happens if you get caught? Dean risked his life so you weren't captured by Angels, and now you want to go hand yourself over to them?"

"I didn't ask him to save me!" he yelled, frustrated. God, why does everyone keep using that against him? "Why am I the only person who wants to do something? Don't you care about Dean?"

Ellen gave him an icy glare. "Don't ever ask me that question again. You hear me?"

Sam downcast his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Dean may know plenty of our secrets, but he doesn't know them all. All we can do now is pray that he can ride this out." Ellen seemed to study him for a moment. "I'm guessing John already told you all of this. You came to me when he said no."

"There has to be a way," he said weakly, already knowing the battle was lost.

"I'm sorry, kid. There isn't."

* * *

><p>From his horse, Castiel watched as the great walls of Heofon drew closer with each step. Next to him, Zachariah gave a content sigh.<p>

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, referring to the massive wall in front of them. The only thing that could be seen above the wall was the top of a few buildings and the sky, which was now turning grey.

Casitel gave a nod. "Just in time too. It appears as if it will rain soon."

"Now, you remember what we talked about, yes? When we pass the walls into the city, they will want to know about your capture. Any details about Rebel activity that you picked up."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

><p>Dean watched with a sinking feeling as the walls of Heofon grew larger and larger. He internally began to panic. Frantically he scanned his surroundings once and over again, desperately searching for anything that would hinder their travel. It didn't even have to be a form of escape, just something to slow them down, to give him more time. When he found none, he improvised. He dug his heels into the ground using all his strength to keep from moving forward.<p>

The horse he was being dragged behind let out a discontent neigh at the disruption. The rider of the horse jerked the rope he was connected to and he had no choice but stumble forward and continue. _Get it together, Dean._ He closed his eyes and took a breath. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could go in trying to runaway like a pansy ass, or he could walk in on his own, show these bastards he wasn't afraid of them. There wasn't a possibility of escape at this point, he had to suck it up. Take it like a man. He was going to prison. Fine. He would dig his way out if he had to. He'd like to see them keep him there.

They reached the gates not soon after. Dean watched with dread as Zachariah began talking with the Angels keeping guard at the gate, who then signaled to _more Angels_ up in the tower. The large gates began to open revealing the grand city inside. It was… huge. Bigger than Dean had thought it'd be. The buildings were massive, larger than any Dean had seen before. Angels and what Dean guessed were Prophets littered the streets, everywhere. It made his skin itch to see so many Angels in one area.

Dean jumped out of his stupor when he noticed they began to move into the city. He took a reluctant step forward and entered into the one place he never wanted to set foot in in his life. The Angel riding on the horse next to Dean smirked down at him.

"Welcome to Hell, boy."

* * *

><p><strong><em>As usual, thanks for reading! Just wanted to let you guys know, the prologue for my new story is now up! It's called Life of a Shinobi if you want to check it out =)<br>_**


	11. Chapter 11

FOUR MONTHS LATER

"Dean!"

Castiel looked up from where he was held on the ground. His wrists were bound behind his back, and he was on his knees held at gunpoint. Dean lay on the ground in front of him, unmoving. Castiel's anxiety levels were through the roof. Between escaping Heofon with Dean, abandoning everything he knew in life to be true, and willingly allowing himself to be recaptured by Rebels was a lot for him to take in right now. Not to mention he was currently surrounded by a mob of angry Rebels in Lawrence, the very heart of Rebel activity.

John Winchester pushed his way past the crowd of people surrounding them. He set his eyes on his son and immediately stopped in his tracks. The muscles in his jaw clenched along with his fists. The surrounding people fell silent.

Dean's body was littered with harsh multicolored bruises and cuts, while his face sported two black eyes and more bruises to match his body.

"Dean…" John whispered, and dropped to his knees, kneeling over his unconscious son. He sat there on his knees for a moment, just staring at Dean, before he slowly lifted up Dean's shirt and inhaled sharply. His chest and abdomen were, as the rest of his body, filled with large deep purple contusions. There were welts and red lines that crisscrossed across his upper body. John recognized them as marks from a whip.

No one dared say a word as John continued to look over his son. He turned his son on his side to inspect his back and heard several gasps from the group surrounding him. Although there were fewer bruises, there were double the whip marks. Old and new scars marred his body. And finally, as if to add insult to injury, Dean had literally been branded a prisoner. Burned into his left shoulder-blade was the Garrison's insignia with a 'P' for prisoner in the middle. John took a deep breath, trying to swallow his anger long enough to complete his inspection. Returning Dean to his back, he moved to his ribs. He moved his hands over his son's body, searching for anything unusual or broken. He stopped when he hit a certain spot on Dean's ribcage. John nearly jumped when a wince escaped the beaten body below him, protesting the pressure on his broken rib.

Deans eyes fluttered open only about a third of the way. "Dad?" It was barely audible. Helplessness washed over him. He had never heard his son so weak.

John forced a small smile. "Yeah Dean it's me. You're home."

"Dad…" Dean whispered with obvious strain. "Dad, I didn't tell them anything. I didn't…" he cut off as a cough that echoed deeply in his raw throat broke through, blood coming up with it. A look of pain overtook his purple-ridden face.

"I know you didn't, I know. We're gonna get you fixed up alright? Just hang in there."

Dean gave a small nod then closed his eyes, falling back into oblivion.

"Take him to the infirmary." He got up from his knees to find every eye upon him. "NOW!" he barked out with a voice that defined authority. A small group rushed to Dean's side and carefully lifted him to carry to the medical building.

John looked around and took notice of the man being held by gunpoint. "Do you mind telling me who the hell this is?" he growled, pointing at Cas.

"Sir, we found him with Dean. He's an Angel, sir."

John's head snapped to look at Castiel. Any hint of gentleness or kindness he held for his son had vanished. "You son of a bitch" he deadpanned, venom in his voice. Fury radiated off of him, but his voice never reached above the volume of a conversation. "This is your doing."

Castiel was speechless. He knew that this was, in part, his fault. He had told them his name; he stood by and watched it happen. He couldn't deny anything. "Yes, but you must understand-" he fell silent as John drew his gun from his holster and aimed it at his chest. Hatred was etched on every inch of his face as he cocked the gun.

"John!"

John reluctantly looked up to see a woman running towards him. "Ellen, stay out of this"

"John put your gun down, you can't kill him"

"And why not!" he yelled

"We can use him. Now lower your gun."

John continued to glare at Castiel. "No. You saw what they did to Dean. He has to pay."

"I couldn't agree with you more. But you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Damn it John, put your gun down."

He held his stance for another minute before dropping his arm with a scowl. "We are not done" he directed at Cas with a deadly tone. "Take him to the barracks."

* * *

><p>Sam rode back into camp. He sighed as he passed through the gates into Lawrence. He had been searching for a way into Heofon for four months now with absolutely nothing to show for it. Nothing. He's literally been to the opposite side of the map and back, searching out any books, people, or information that could even get him close to Hoefon. But what did he have to show for it? Zero. He slid off his horse when he saw a familiar blonde woman come running towards him.<p>

"Hey Jo" he greeted wearily, tired from his journey.

"Deans back" she stated, getting right to the point.

Sam snapped his head towards her. "Where is he?"

"Infirmary"

Sam immediately sprinted toward the medical building, all weariness forgotten. When he saw Dean his heart stopped. He felt guilty as hell for leaving Dean, though he knew it was the logical decision. Dean lay shirtless on the table, still unconscious. He stared in horror over his brothers beaten body.

"Dean."

"Sam, I'm sorry but he can't hear you"

Sam turned to the doctor. "How long has he been here Frank?" Frank Harrison was the best doctor in the infirmary. John had personally assigned him to Dean's case, telling him that he would have whatever he needed to get Dean better.

He sighed "About two days now. He's been unconscious ever since he was brought in. I can't figure out what's wrong with him, his condition seems to have gotten worse…"

"Sam, I see your back"

He turned to see his father standing in the doorway. "So how is he Harrison?"

"Sir, I just got done telling Sam that his condition seems to have worsened." Frank informed him.

John frowned and a moment of silence passed. "Just… Just keep working on it."

Sam caught up with John as he headed out the door. "Dad, what happened?"

"About two days ago a couple of scouts saw two men riding in the direction of the base. When they saw one of the members wearing an Angel uniform they surrounded them and found out that it was Dean being held hostage."

Sam frowned. "Just one Angel? He was captured by a fleet of twenty or so that makes no sense."

John shook his head angrily "The bastards not telling us anything either. He keeps saying that he escaped with Dean" he snorted "A runaway Angel. Bullshit"

"Where is he now?"

"The Angel? In the barracks"

Sam broke off from John and headed for the barracks. He nodded to the guards in the building then looked through the bars of the bleak cell. The man inside had a black eye and had definitely seen better days.

"Castiel?"

Castiel looked up to look at Sam, relief covering his face. "Sam, it's good to see you." He got up from sitting against the wall of the back corner and walked to the bars to face Sam, his hands and feet in chains. "You have to listen to me. I'm sorry. I should have done something sooner. But you have to get the antidote to Dean."

"Antidote? What antidote?"

"The Garrison poisoned Dean. I brought the antidote with us when we escaped but never got the chance to give it to him. No one here will believe me; they refuse to use it on him. He's running out of time Sam."

"But why? Why are you doing this? Why should I believe you?"

Castiel sighed. "It is difficult to explain… Dean… Dean is a good man. He did not deserve what the Garrison did to him. And… I see the Garrison for what it is now. I am no longer a servant of the King."

Sam studied Castiel. He seemed to be telling the truth. What scared him the most was that he was gambling with Dean's life. It could actually be poison for all he knew. But what if it wasn't? What if the Angel was really offering him a way to save Dean's life?

"I don't know man, I'm not sure if I can take you on your word."

"I swear it"

"How do I know that you're not just trying to kill Dean?"

He paused "If I had wanted to kill Dean, I would have left him with the Garrison."

Sam only stared at Castiel. He didn't seem like the other Angels, but that doesn't change what he is. But he was desperate. Dean wasn't getting better, poison would fit. He put a hand up to his head. The indecision and uncertainty was killing his head. Sam thought hard and rapidly, despite his aching head. The doctor's hopeless words rang through his head.

"Alright. But I swear to god if Dean gets hurt, you'll regret it."

Castiel did not doubt him for a second. He was reminded of their earlier travels, the clear and inseparable bond the two brothers shared. When there was no response Sam left the building, frantically searching for his father. He found him in the medical building, sitting in the corner writing in his journal.

"Dad, where is the Angel's bag?" he asked, a little short of breath from his running.

"What? Why? Sam what's wrong?" it wasn't a question of his well being, but in fear something had happened to the camp.

"Dean's poisoned. The antidote is in the Angel's bag. Where is it?"

John scoffed "You actually believe the crap he's peddling? He's lying Sam."

"No, I don't think so."

John stood up, his voice angry, "You don't _think_ so? This is your brother's _life_ you're playing with; there isn't room for _I don't think so_."

Sam registered the tone his father used, the tone he hated. The tone that discredited whatever he said as idiotic. "You think I don't know what's at stake? He is dying Dad! And he's not getting any better! Poison fits, and if you're too hard headed to accept help from an Angel then I will because Dean won't last much longer!"

"You said it yourself, he's an Angel! An Angel! After what you've seen them do you just want to trust one? What's wrong with you?"

The two men were inches away from each other's face, fury radiating off both them. They both spun around when they heard a small cough. Dean's doctor stood nervously in the doorway.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to interrupt, but I" he hesitated "I agree with Sam. Poison would explain why his condition is not improving. At this point… it may be the only option we have left."

The doctor looked as if he were waiting for a bomb to explode.

John looked at Sam and Frank with disbelief. No one said anything as John stood there, fists clenched, fuming.

"Fine!" he growled "then go get the Angel. His bag is at the barracks. Mark knows where it is."

Minutes later, Castiel was shoved through the door, hands still cuffed in front of him.

"I'm giving you one chance. One. And I _swear to god_ if this is a trick..." he let the threat hang in the air.

Castiel could only nod. The Rebel leader did not strike him as someone who would make empty threats.

"Explain what he was poisoned with. It's like nothing I've ever seen" Frank piped in after he thought John was done threatening the Angel.

"That's because the plant it comes from is only grown inside the walls of Heofon. It is a unique poison that moves through the body, destroying it from the inside. The Garrison uses it for interrogating prisoners. While terminating the body's immune system, the nerves in the body are sent into overdrive. Pain is doubled, if not tripled."

He paused to make sure the doctor understood what he had just said. "While it is lethal, the poison does not kill immediately, slowly destroying its host. When given small amounts of the antidote, it can resist the fatality of it. This makes it perfect for the Garrisons use."

John interrupted him at this point "Yeah ok, we get it. The poison is just amazing on all accounts. Now how do we heal my son?" he snapped, becoming impatient.

"To completely heal him the antidote must be administered numerous times in small doses. Taking it all at once would send Dean's body into shock. Divide the bottle into fourths and give him a portion every three hours." Castiel searched his mind for anything he may have missed, but was almost certain he told them everything they needed to know.

The doctor set to work immediately.

"Is that all?" John demanded.

"Yes, it is."

The way John looked at him made Castiel uncomfortable. Every movement he made toward Castiel screamed 'I hate you and don't trust you worth a damn'.

"Think hard _Angel_" he spat. "If I _ever_ find out that you are withholding information from me, so help me god, I will end you."

"Dad, that's enough."

"No Sam. Dean was in Heofon for four goddamn months. Excuse me if I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. We don't even know what happened."

Sam looked as if he were about to retort when he paused. "What did happen, Castiel?"

"I escaped with De-"

"Yeah we already know that part ass-hat. I want to know what happened in the past four months," John snapped at him.

Castiel took a deep breath; they weren't going to like this.


	12. Chapter 12

"I couldn't help but notice that Dean and Sam weren't exactly the Rebels the Garrison described. When Dean was captured, I begged him to tell the Angels what they wanted to know. He, of course, refused. When we reached Heofon, Dean was thrown into prison and tortured. I cannot go into detail of his imprisonment. It was not my place to oversee his torture; I was only able to hear news from other Angels supervising the prison."

"When you say tortured…?" Sam questioned

"Angels tried just about everything. He was beaten, whipped, poisoned, water boarded, just to name a few. Of course they had to avoid extreme measures as to not kill him. They became increasingly frustrated, however, when Dean would not break." Through John's perturbed look over learning some of the details, Castiel could have sworn he saw a small look of pride coming off the leader at his last statement.

"But the Angels were not about to resign their efforts. After three months of fruitless torture, the Angels decided to try something new. They brought in other Rebels that had been captured and began torturing them in front of Dean. These Rebels that were brought in… they were… expendable. They could be tortured in ways Dean couldn't; they could be killed. And all of it took place before Dean's very eyes."

Castiel paused. "It is rumored that Dean broke for the first time in his cell that night.

"They began to alternate the two tactics. One day he would be tortured and the next he would watch it happen to a fellow Rebel. After a week of this, they say they had gotten farther with Dean in that time than they had within the previous three months. It was then that I devised a plan to escape with him."

_Castiel walked down the grand hall, too consumed in what he was about to do to admire the elaborate décor the Garrison favored so much within their buildings. So absorbed was he, in fact, that he nearly missed a superior Angel passing by him. Just in time, he moved aside to the wall of the hallway and stood at attention, averting his eyes in the custom sign of respect. His heart rate quickened at the fear that somehow, someway, the superior Angel would know what he was about to do, would confront him about it. He released the breath he didn't realize he was holding when the Angel disappeared around the corner, and he continued on his way to the dungeons. Descending the stairwell, Castiel noticed an immediate change in the atmosphere. All traces of the grand décor had disappeared, replaced by bleak stone walls. The temperature had dropped considerably, and an air of despair filled him. He gagged as the smell of human waste hit his nose, and then took to breathing through his mouth. Absently brushing his pocket, he reassured himself the key to Dean's cell was still in his pocket. _

_He scanned the cells as he made his way down the row, each prisoner looking as pitiful as the last. Some of the prisoners were worse off than the others however; not all prisoners were tortured for information, only the important ones. Reaching the storage room, he quickly grabbed a vile of antidote from off the shelf. He took a sheet of linen cloth and threw it over a cart, and then began to place random torture devices off the shelves onto it. Rolling the cart out of the storage room, he made his way to Dean's cell._

_When he finally reached it, he grimaced. Dean looked worse than he had thought he would; and he prepared himself. He pushed the key into the door and slid into the small cell. Dean was sitting on the ground against the wall, his arms chained above his head. Castiel kneeled next to Dean and shook him slightly._

"_Dean" he whispered in an attempt to wake him. "Dean, wake up. Dean."_

_Dean jerked slightly upon his awakening, rustling the chains keeping his hands suspended above him. It seemed to take him a moment before his eyes adjusted and recognition set in. _

"_Cast-" Dean began, but Castiel threw a hand up to Dean's mouth to silence him. He internally cringed at how raw Dean's voice sounded, but there was no time to dwell on such details._

"_Dean listen to me very closely," he whispered urgently. "I'm going to get you out of here. But you must do exactly as I say. Understand?"_

_Dean merely stared at him. Castiel thought he was still half-way out of it when he recognized the look on Dean's face. He was being scrutinized. There was no time for that._

"_Dean, _do you understand me_?" he asserted. Dean looked at him for another moment before nodding in agreement. Castiel removed his hand from the Rebel's mouth and unlocked the chains keeping him against the wall. Dean let out a grunt as his arms fell to his side, but Castiel gave him no time to recuperate. He helped hoist Dean to his feet, and the pair stumbled over to the cart. Dean stopped short when he saw the items on top of the cart._

"_You have to trust me Dean." He lifted the linen cloth to reveal a small space underneath. "Hide under here and don't make a sound. I will tell you when it is safe for you to come out." Dean's eyes flashed between the weapons on the cart to Castiel, then finally crouched and fit himself into the cart with Castiel's help._

_He rolled the cart toward the dungeon exit, his heart beating a thousand times per minute. Forcing himself to calm, he exited the prison. _

"_Castiel."_

_He froze and turned to the Angel guarding the door to the prison. The other Angel looked to his cart and then back up to Castiel._

"_What were you doing inside the prison? And what reason do you have for removing its weapons?"_

"_Jeremiah was unable to sustain his responsibilities for the day, so I offered to take his post." And by 'unable to sustain his responsibilities', he really meant Jeremiah was currently unconscious in a closet. "As for the weapons, Uriel has ordered me to bring these to him."_

"_Why must he have them?"_

"_I did not question his order," Castiel snapped. This Angel was equal to his rank. "If you wish to know his reasons, you can ask him yourself," he finished coldly. The Angel's eyes widened briefly at the mere thought of it, then he cleared his throat._

"_That will not be necessary. You may continue." _

_Castiel rolled the cart away, shooting the guard a cold look as if to strongly disapprove his mere mention of questioning an order. He turned around the corner into an alley. Looking around to make sure he was alone, Castiel lifted the linen cloth._

"_We're outside the prison. Dean, you have to stay here while I locate the shipment we will use to smuggle you out in. Stay here and remain hidden," he asserted, helping Dean out of the cart. If anyone identified Dean outside, the results could be disastrous. He led Dean over to behind a stack of barrels and lowered Dean down to sit on the cobblestone street._

"_Stay here. Got it." Dean grunted back weakly. His breathing was labored; all the movement was clearly causing him pain. _

_Castiel nodded and moved out of the alley. He would have to move quickly. He didn't think anyone would have business in that ally for some time, but if someone were to wander there by happenstance... He didn't even want to think about it. His eyes scanned the streets as he strode down them. There was no need to worry if he stood out among the masses; every Garrison member within the city moved with purpose. There was no one walking through Heofon at a nice leisurely pace, enjoying the view. Everyone here had a purpose and if they were not fulfilling that purpose they were soon replaced with someone who was. The entire Garrison operated like a well-oiled machine. _

_Finally, Castiel found his mark. A trailer, tied to a horse, was being loaded with supplies to be taken out of the city. Castiel watched their progress until the last item was loaded onto the trailer. The workers then began to put the tarp over the supplies to protect them from the environment. Castiel turned and retraced his steps to the alley where he had left Dean. They had fifteen minutes._

_When Castiel returned, an insurmountable amount of panic overtook him._

_He wasn't there._

_Dean. Was. Not. There._

_His first thought was that this was the wrong alley-way. That small comfort was quickly ripped away from him, however, when he spotted the cart he used to wheel Winchester out of the prison. He spun around wildly for any sign of the Rebel, almost ready to leave the alley when he heard a small grunt. He snapped his head toward the source of the noise. Walking further down the alley, a foot came into view, followed by a leg. Dean soon became visible behind a different stack of barrels. Relief swept over Castiel, yet his heart still pounded in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his system from the panic attack moments before. _

"_Winchester," he hissed, attempting to regain control of his emotions, "I told you to stay in one spot. You have no idea how-"_

_He cut himself off as he beheld Dean in front of him. The man was panting, clutching his side. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin, and there was a line of blood spilling from his mouth. Castiel looked the Rebel up and down, then looked back from the spot he initially left Dean. There was a barrel knocked over and, upon further inspection, he could see blood on the ground. He looked back to Dean. He didn't walk over to this new spot; he stumbled. He was trying to get away himself. He didn't trust him. While it was understandable, it was rather unsettling. But that was the least of his issues._

_There was one thing he didn't take into account. And it was sitting right in front of his face. He was a fool. He took everything into account but the simplest and perhaps most pertinent detail._

"_Dean… Can you walk?"_

"_Yeah I can walk," he snapped with his raw throat, "I've been doing it my whole damn life."_

_Castiel inspected him for another moment. "Dean, now is not the time to be proud. The shipment we must smuggle you out in draws near. I must be outside this alley in order to stop the trailer, allowing you to slip in under the tarp that covers it. Now I will ask you again. Can you walk?"_

_Dean tilted his head that was resting against the stone wall up to give Castiel an inspective glance. He then leaned up off the wall and moved to stand, obviously struggling. He made it about three steps before he gave an involuntary hiss and clutched his side yet again, falling against the wall once more. He gave a small, sad glance at the long distance down the alley, and then turned his head away from Castiel. After a moment Dean shook his head, still refusing to look at him, admitting defeat._

"_Damn," Castiel muttered under his breath. _

_He needed a new plan. Fast._


End file.
